


Testing

by occasional_boy_reporter



Category: Tintin, Tintin - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Casual Sex, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Outdoor Sex, abuse of scientific miracles, did I write this smut?, long pants Tintin, mentions of prior sexcapades
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 01:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1369417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasional_boy_reporter/pseuds/occasional_boy_reporter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Calculus has invented something miraculous! Tintin and Haddock get to test it...and deal with the side effects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Testing

   Captain Haddock hummed a sea shanty as he puttered around Marlinspike’s spacious kitchen. An open bottle of Loch Lomond sat on the counter next to a glass of water. Thanks to a certain professor with a certain pill, Haddock no longer had a taste for whiskey. But in the few weeks after their return from South America, the Captain did discover that just the act of smelling liquor made drinking plain water a little more tolerable.

   All the Captain needed was a little ice to complete the illusion. Haddock opened the walk-in ice box and nearly dropped his glass in surprise. “Calculus?”

   The professor sat cross-legged in the middle of the freezer floor, wearing nothing more protective than his usual green coat and hat. Calculus squinted against the sudden brightness and then seemed surprised to notice the Captain standing in the doorway.

   “Captain!” Calculus shouted. His hands gestured wildly with enthusiasm. “They’re working! Amazing! It’s amazing! Please shut the door, Captain. You’re letting all the cold air out and I calculate I probably have another eight hours.”

   “Eight hours before what? Before someone drags your frozen carcass out of the icebox? What in the blue blazes are you doing in there?"

   "You cut your hair?” Calculus tilted his head in puzzlement. “Looks rather the same to me. But forget about your hair, I've just created something marvelous!"

   "Of course you have. Why else would you be sitting in the ice chest?"

   "Well not my best, but it's certainly in my top ten inventions of all time.” Professor Calculus stood. He gleefully pulled a small envelope from his vest pocket and forced it into Haddock’s hands. “These, my friend, are pills that will keep any man warm for up to ten hours. It's a body miracle! Mountain climbers and Eskimos will be clamoring for it. Here! Just take one and join me in the ice chest."

   "Thundering typhoons! Get out of there you coot! It's the middle of December. If you wanted to freeze yourself, you could have just taken a stroll outside."

   "Oh, no! No side effects at all. But it is a little cramped in here. You might be too large to join me. Just keep the pills, Captain, and let me know when you've tested them." Without any more fuss, Calculus turned and resumed his position on the icebox floor.

   Haddock drummed his fingers against the door before he shrugged and closed it with surprising calm.

   “Who am I to question genius?”

****************

   "Ready, Snowy?"

   "Whoah!"

   Haddock ventured into the hall just as Tintin stepped from the last stair of Marlinspike Hall’s grand staircase. Snowy padded happily behind.

   "Hello, Captain," Tintin greeted while adjusting his cap. "Snowy and I were just about to go for a walk. Care to join us?"

   "Join you? Everyone’s out of their minds today. Calculus is sitting in the ice box and you want to prance around in the snow when there’s a perfectly lovely fire in the sitting room!”

   “Calculus is sitting in the freezer?”

   Haddock waved away the question. “Boy, it's freezing out there! Didn't you get enough snow and ice in Tibet?"

   "We’re hoping more for some fresh air, I think," Tintin looked to Snowy who wagged his tail. Tintin swung his scarf around his neck and tucked the ends into his old, worn trench coat. "Snowy and I won't be out long, Captain."

   Unfortunately, Tintin’s thick gloves made turning the doorknob a small struggle and this ruined any potential for an effective exit. Haddock mumbled something gruff about youth and the cold even as he batted Tintin’s hand aside and opened the door for the younger man. Tintin’s chuckle soothed the Captain’s grumbling, if only a little.

   “Would you like us to bring you a souvenir icicle?”

   Haddock scoffed and shooed the young reporter and his pooch out the door. Tintin himself would be little more than an icicle when he got back! Halfway across the sitting room, Haddock was struck by a thought. His fingers brushed the envelope of pills in his pocket.

   "Wait up, Tintin!"

***********

   Tintin took a few slow steps backward as he waited, a knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Even through several sturdy layers of masonry, he’d heard the Captain’s call. Marlinspike’s door swung open with predictable gusto. Haddock shrugged on his coat and adjusted his trusty Captain’s hat...and nearly tumbled down the front stairs in the process.

"Can't very well let you go out alone,” Haddock grumbled amiably as steadied himself and wriggled into some black, leather gloves. “You know it's been nearly three weeks since we set off on some harebrained adventure? You're likely to get conked in the head or drugged any minute."

   Tintin smiled, brows arched ever so slightly beneath his cap. "Come to save me from mystery villains then?"

   "You're a veritable time bomb of trouble," Haddock grinned over his scarf.

   Snowy barked in what seemed suspiciously like agreement.

   "Quiet you," Tintin muttered without heat. Snowy gave one last ambiguous bark before he scampered off.

   Only a few paces later, Tintin blew some warm air on his hands before he burrowed them back into his pockets and buried his nose deeper in his scarf. The young man’s cheeks were already pink from the cold. Which reminded Haddock...

   "Here. Gift from the Professor," Haddock pulled the envelope from his pants pocket and handed it to his companion.

   "Oh?" Tintin turned it over looking for signs of an impending explosion.

   "Calculus’ newest invention,” Haddock explained. “Just finished the tests.”

   “Ah! The freezer is making more sense now.”

   “They’re pills designed to keep a man warm for up to ten hours."

   "Really? How convenient," Tintin shook a single pill into his gloved palm and considered it as they walked. It was more of a capsule really; a little, pinkish gel that was squishy when prodded. “Do you think we ought to try one?”

   Haddock’s face was skeptical.

   “Well, his anti-alcohol pills were certainly effective,” Tintin pointed out.

   Haddock grunted his distaste.

   “I suppose I trust his inventions by now,” Tintin said, mostly to himself. “Calculus was still alive in the freezer, right?”

   “Alive and happy as a lark,” Haddock confirmed as he massaged his chilled fingers.

   “In that case…Geronimo!” Tintin popped the capsule into his mouth and swallowed before he could let himself rethink it.

   Tintin came to a dead stop and reached for the Captain.

   “Thundering typhoons!” Haddock blurted as he grabbed Tintin's hands. “He’s killed you!”

   "No, Captain,” Tintin laughed once he’d steadied, “It’s just…these pills are amazing!"

   "They are?" Haddock was a little impressed but mostly relieved.

   "Try one yourself, Captain."

   Tintin shook a single pink capsule into the Captain’s hand. Haddock stared at it doubtfully.

   “Come on now, Captain. I’ve tried it.”

   “But what if it kills me?”

   “Then we’ll die together.”

   “Some comedian you are,” Haddock groused. Then he became truly alarmed. “What if it keeps me from smoking tobacco? A man can only lose so many vices!”

   “I know for a fact you have more than two vices,” Tintin was master of the wry smile.

   “Fine,” Haddock grumbled as his face flushed subtly. He swallowed the capsule and it squirmed down his throat, though that was probably just his imagination.

   Haddock could almost feel the moment the capsule dissolved inside his stomach. There was a startling sloshing sensation followed immediately by pleasant warmth that spread throughout his limbs. It was just how Haddock remembered drinking whiskey!

   "Remarkable! They really work. It’s almost instant."

   "You can feel it all the way to your toes," Tintin laughed. "I think I could stand to walk a little farther. How about you, Captain?"

   "I think I could do laps around the estate!"

   The two choose the next left turn which would lead them through the trees and gardens that butted against Marlinspike’s exterior wall.

   "Where’d Snowy run off to?" Tintin wondered as he scanned the snow-covered bushes. The most recent snowfall had melted just enough to leave the path clear, but the frozen flakes still lingered as soft piles in the shadows of trees.

   "He’s probably chasing some poor, fat squirrel. Snowy's a smart dog though, he’ll likely be home before us."

   "My goodness, those pills work well," Tintin’s voice sounded a bit strained as he loosened his yellow scarf.

   Haddock nodded distractedly. He was warm too. It was as if he'd had a few too many drinks, but he couldn’t even touch the stuff anymore. Haddock absently fanned himself with his hat.

   Tintin blew a whistling sigh. The Captain muttered about barnacles.

   “Maybe they’re a little too strong,” Tintin’s face was no longer the gentle pink caused by cold air, he was flushed red from neck to the base of his reddish roots. Tintin unbuttoned his trench coat. He even slipped a hand under the collar of his sweaters and pulled them away from his skin hoping some of the heat might escape. The gesture brought next to no relief. Something was very wrong, he was burning up! Tintin’s gut suddenly tightened with the force of a mobster’s fist and he gritted his teeth.

   Haddock swore and squinted at the overcast sky. It felt like Mother Nature had decided to switch from winter to summer without proper notice, but there wasn’t even a beam of sunlight breaking through the dreary clouds. Something twisted below the Captain’s belt and he hissed through clenched teeth. Haddock hadn’t felt that pull since before their last trip to South America. And he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt it this strongly.

   A discreet glance proved Tintin was also feeling something. Haddock licked his lips.

   Tintin made a noise that forced Haddock’s feet to a jerking stop. It was something between a sigh and a grunt.

"Tintin?" Haddock ventured.

   "Why don't you go ahead Captain?” Tintin angled himself away from Haddock and the path. He kept his collar pulled away from the red skin of his neck and stared off into the trees. “I...I think I will look for Snowy."

   "Well, I'll help," Haddock managed. He placed a hand to his own heated neck. His fingers weren’t any cooler.

"No, I’ll meet you at home," Tintin gritted out as he staggered slightly off the path. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a real curse word and braced a hand against a frozen tree.

   "What's wrong, lad?"

   Tintin shook his head and a single breath escaped in a desperate pant. He rested one flaming cheek against the icy bark and clutched at his gut with both hands.

   Haddock’s throat went dry. He reached for the boy on impulse, but Tintin saw it coming through hazy eyes and tried to slip out of range. Haddock’s hands missed their target on Tintin’s shoulder and glanced off the boy's chest instead. Tintin moaned.

   The journalist shook his head in horror and forced a hand over his mouth.

"I'm sorry,” he mumbled behind shaking fingers, “I don't know what's come over me."

   "Typhoons. I know what it is," Haddock’s body was hit with a blast of heat so strong that his next carefully planned step became an uncoordinated lurch against Tintin and the tree.

   Tintin jerked in response to the Captain’s burning body against his and fisted the older man’s coat sleeves. By this point in their lives, Tintin and Haddock had both had their share of sexual encounters. Some experiences had been shared between them, but Tintin and the Captain were by no means monogamous. And though Tintin and Haddock’s sexual relationship was casual at best, Tintin’s body had never been so painfully demanding in a need for the Captain or any other person. The young man rubbed his cheek against Haddock’s face, catching just enough of the Captain’s beard to savor the soft scratch of it. He nosed the shell of the Captain’s ear and sighed. “It’s the pills, isn’t it?"

   "Seems they do a lot more than warm your toes," Haddock whispered in the space below Tintin’s jaw.

   Tintin’s exhale might have been a laugh before it hitched in his throat and turned into a groaning sigh. Haddock’s hands parted Tintin’s coat and smoothed the blue sweater from collar to hem. Tintin shuddered and sank a little lower against the tree offering the Captain clearer access to his hips.

   The reporter’s erection was glaringly obvious under the textured front of his corduroys. The sight made Haddock’s own cock jump though he wasn’t sure it could get any fuller than it already was. He hadn’t had the boy since just after that fiasco with Castafiore and her blasted jewels. No, that wasn’t the last. They shared a room at the International Astronautical Congress in Australia, hadn’t they fooled around there? That whole adventure seemed a little fuzzy. Either way, it had been far too long for Haddock’s liking. The Captain managed to drag his eyes away from the redhead’s predicament when Tintin rubbed light circles along Haddock’s wrists. Such a small gesture would have been a delicate teasing under normal circumstances. But with Calculus’ potent pills in Haddock’s system, the move had stars exploding behind his clenched eyelids

   “I don’t dare try to make it back like this.” The plan was obvious in the way Tintin gripped Haddock’s wrists and forced the larger man’s hands against the fly of his pants.

   Haddock allowed himself a chuckle to mask the hitch in his breath. “Oh, I’ve got no intention of letting you try.”

   Haddock’s sudden kiss made Tintin jump like he’d been struck by lightning. Tintin recovered soon enough and tangled his hands into dark hair. Haddock’s growl of approval forced an equally anxious whine from Tintin. The Captain’s hat tumbled off and neither cared for a second where it might land. Haddock was the first to grind them together. The solid bulge of Haddock’s erection short-circuited Tintin’s control with mind-wiping force, he collapsed against the tree and instinctively dragged Haddock along for the ride. Because isn’t that what Tintin always did? Even the rough scrape of bark along Tintin’s back felt like heaven. His mouth fell open and his fingers scrambled for the line of buttons on the Captain’s coat. Haddock occupied himself by covering Tintin’s heated neck with scratchy kisses and bites that were increasingly sharp and delightfully painful.

   Once the last button had been wrestled from Haddock’s coat, Tintin’s hands dove past black wool and a plaid jacket to tug at the white shirt underneath. It was hard to think past the need to feel Haddock’s skin. Usually clever fingers were foiled by eager tremors so Tintin gave up on the shirt and jerked at the Captain’s belt buckle instead. The tug forced their hips together with bruising force but the buckle hardly budged.

   “You want it that bad?” Haddock asked between a string of fierce French kisses.

   “I need it,” Tintin muttered as he fumbled at the Captain’s fly. He was so close that a few dirty grinds against the Captain’s leg would have sent him over.

But he wanted to feel Haddock in his hand first. It had been almost six months since they last fooled around, but Tintin remembered certain things very well. For instance, the Captain would be heavy and so thick that Tintin couldn’t properly stroke him with anything less than his entire hand. The thought caused Tintin’s body to convulse in a near misfire.

   “If you need it so bad, then take off your damn gloves,” Haddock pried Tintin’s hands away from their fumbling mission at his belt. One hand was secured in his massive palm and brought to the Captain’s lips. He plucked the glove from Tintin’s hand using only his teeth, a trick he’d never had the opportunity to use but miraculously pulled off without a hitch. Unless you counted the hitch in Tintin’s breathing. And, oh, the wide-eyed look of wonder on the boy’s face! Haddock nipped at Tintin’s palm before releasing it.

   Second glove forgotten, Tintin’s bare hand dragged down the Captain’s torso until it finally reached that damned buckle. It was gone in a heartbeat. Now free to snake lower, Tintin finally found what he wanted and hummed his approval against Haddock’s smirking lips. The Captain was almost impossibly bigger than Tintin remembered, too thick to wrap a hand around at this cramped angle. It might have been another side effect of the pills. If Calculus only knew… The Captain’s soft skin burned even against Tintin’s heated fingers.

   While the redhead was marveling at the change, the Captain grew impatient and thrust into Tintin’s hand.

Tintin laughed and nuzzled into the sweaty space between Haddock’s neck and collar to savor the smell. Haddock’s breath caught when Tintin’s fingers proved more talented than he remembered. Either the kid had picked up some moves someplace else, or it had really just been a long time since their last bit of fun. A man who gave as good as he got, Haddock smoothed massive palms up Tintin’s thighs before snaking around to the back of those corduroys. One quick squeeze beneath back pockets was the only warning he gave before he hoisted Tintin up by the back of his thighs and pinned him to the tree.

   The reporter’s head thunked against the trunk and he cried out in surprise. Haddock’s thrusts faltered and Tintin slid a few inches down the tree trunk.

   “Don’t!” Tintin wrapped his legs tightly around Haddock’s hips and pulled him close again. Tintin practically doubled himself over at the waist and wriggled his hand in the scant space between them until he could brush the tight flesh behind the Captain’s burning cock. Haddock’s knees jerked and he crushed Tintin against the tree. Tintin winced at the weight against his wrist but flexed his fingers to stimulate them both. With Tintin’s short breaths and the Captain’s pleased hissing, the air between them was a spark away from catching fire.

   “Captain, don’t you dare stop.”

   Haddock groaned in Tintin’s ear and gripped corduroy-clad thighs in an iron hold. The Captain had lost the power of intelligible speech the moment Tintin invaded his pants. He let his dumb mouth nip a trail from Tintin’s ear to his collar to let the ginger know there was no stopping. Unless, of course… A harsh exhale, a particularly forceful bite, and a jerking grind against Tintin’s pinned hand were as telling as the warm flood that abruptly doused Tintin’s palm.

   The Captain let slip a word even HE never used and blinked away the creeping, black spots in his vision.

   “I think your come feels hotter than usual too,”Tintin uttered dazedly against the Captain’s neck as he ran slippery fingers over the Captain’s shaft.

   Haddock grunted, completely over sensitized, and angled away.

   “It’s like hot tea all over my hand.”

   Haddock snorted and met the younger man’s eyes. “Have you lost your mind?” Haddock panted.

   “Not yet. I was hoping for a little help,” Tintin bucked his hips into Haddock abdomen for emphasis.

   “Sorry, about that. I think I might have blacked out a little,” Haddock pried Tintin’s legs from his waist and set him back on the ground. “No more of this though, eh? I’m not certain I won’t drop you.”

   Tintin’s pout was as close as Haddock had ever seen him to begging. Haddock kissed the reporter’s warm brow, then a flushed cheek to make up for the loss. Tintin took a second to stretch, handjobs as a human pretzel nailed to a tree could be rough on one’s back. He moved to wipe his slick hand on his discarded scarf.

   “Let me,” Before he’d thought much about it, Haddock gripped Tintin’s abused wrist and sucked one finger clean.

   Tintin practically fell against the tree in shock. By the end of the second finger, frozen bark crumbled from under Tintin’s white-knuckled grip. By the time the Captain finished each finger and swirled his broad tongue across the palm, Tintin was glassy-eyed and ready to burst.

   “You never do that,” Tintin marveled, the red in his cheeks bordered on purple.

   “We never do it in the woods either,” Haddock nipped at Tintin’s freshly cleaned wrist.

   “And you’ve never been such a shameless tease,” Tintin fisted the Captain’s wool coat and dragged Haddock flush against his body.

   “No,” Haddock smiled down at Tintin’s quiff, “that’s usually your bit.”

   Tintin shook his head. Amused but physically pained, he managed a wincing smile.

   “It gets better when you come,” Haddock ran a comforting hand along Tintin’s cheek. It was true he felt much cooler already but still too warm to be wearing wool even in the frozen, open air.

   “Then make me come!” Tintin demanded with visible exasperation.

   “And now you’re a master of sweet talk.”

   Tintin would have made another rather snappish remark if Haddock hadn’t surprised the younger man and pushed Tintin’s sweater halfway up his torso. Tintin squirmed instinctively though he was too hot to care about the sudden draft.

   “Hold this,” Haddock dragged one of Tintin’s hands to the fabric bunched around Tintin’s ribs.

   The reporter obeyed as Haddock knelt and kissed his way down Tintin’s hot skin. The knowledge of Haddock’s goal was enough to set Tintin’s legs shaking. A zipper never seemed so loud. Tintin stared resolutely into the branches overhead, the visual stimulus of seeing Haddock on his knees would have been damning.

The Captain’s leather gloves were almost cool against Tintin’s skin. Haddock peeled down layers of clothing and left the redhead perfectly naked from ribs to mid-thigh. Tintin’s knees quaked when Haddock nuzzled the inside of his leg.

   “Captain, I’ve been more than sufficiently patient,” Tintin managed to pant at the branches overhead. Whatever was in Calculus’ pills, it was going to have him coming before he even felt the pleasure of Haddock’s mouth.

   The responding chuckle vibrated the softest stretch of skin between Tintin’s legs. Finally, MERCIFULLY, wet heat ghosted against him. Tintin’s eyes snapped down, he couldn’t help it. He was incapable of NOT watching. At this angle, the Captain was all broad shoulders and hair and nose with occasional peeks of lips and tongue as the laved and sucked at just the tip. Haddock’s tongue was a soft pink framed by his dark beard and seemed pale in comparison to the bright red staining the Captain’s cheeks and brow. With an ease that speaks of years of practice, Haddock took Tintin into his mouth and gave the young man’s cock the same perfect treatment he’d given each of Tintin’s fingers.

   Tintin’s cry was so loud and so sudden that Haddock almost choked in alarm. Geographically, they were not that far to the main road. Suppose a driver heard Tintin in ‘distress’ and stopped to investigate? Tabloids would have a field day with that one! Even so, Tintin decided his free hand was less suited to muffling his own noises and put to better use urging Captain Haddock to take him deeper.

   Haddock might have laughed or complained at the fingers that tugged his hair; either way, Tintin benefited from the vibration. Leather-encased fingers gripped pale thighs a little firmer, just in case.

   “Captain, I can’t…” And he couldn’t. It was almost a shame as Haddock on his knees was about as hot as Tintin could ask for, but his body was moments away from flying into a thousand pieces of molten, boy reporter.

   Haddock’s cock throbbed at the hitch in Tintin’s voice. He hadn’t even gotten the boy off yet and his own body was begging for more. There was going to be a very stern, and very awkward, conversation with Calculus when they got back home.

   Tintin twisted his fingers in black hair and facefucked the Captian just like he had years ago on the moon. Haddock allowed it until he felt Tintin’s thighs break into a sweat on either side of his head and knew this was the moment to go for it. He slipped a single leather-encased finger along the taught skin behind Tintin’s cock and squirmed between two clenched cheeks until he reached a particular pucker of flesh.

   “Captain!”

   Tintin’s entire upper body curled over the Captain with the force of his orgasm. Haddock swallowed and continued to suck as Tintin’s bare abs trembled against his head. Tintin’s labored breaths surrounded Haddock and, damnit, the Captain was even harder than before they began. Haddock squared his shoulders and pushed the boneless reporter’s torso back against the tree.

   “Can you go another?”

   Tintin stared, hazy eyes were blown wide again, scandalized. Dazed, Tintin still gripped his rumpled sweater to his flushed chest in one tight fist. Haddock eyed the flush from Tintin’s chest down to his soaked and spent cock.

   “Another?” Tintin practically squeaked.

   “Trust me, you will,” Haddock rose from stiff knees and firmly spun Tintin by the shoulder.

   “Wait a minute!” Tintin stumbled in his half lowered corduroys and barely caught himself against the tree before he felt the cloth of his trench brushing away from his bare ass. One massive hand between Tintin’s shoulder blades pinned him to the tree and another hand wrapped around his thigh and pulled it back stretching him out obscenely. Tintin could not straighten with the Captain standing right between his awkwardly cocked legs. “Haddock, wait.”

   The fine leather of Haddock’s gloves glided easily over Tintin’s ass. After the slight scratching of tree bark, the smoothness was mesmerizing. Even though he was convinced he should object, Tintin was surprised at how quickly the heat flared back to life in his belly and he became breathless. His coat scrunched up to rest in the small of his back as Haddock kneaded at his rear with the one hand not holding Tintin in place.

   “Give me one second. Stay just like that,” Haddock gave Tintin’s rump a soft pat. Tintin huffed a bit indignantly but remained shamelessly propped against the tree as Haddock rustled around behind him.

   “What are you doing?” Tintin asked over his shoulder.

   The Captain had wrestled the, now very rumpled, envelope from his coat pocket and shook two more of Calculus’ pills into his palm. “This is liquid in a gel right?”

   “I…I think so,” Tintin’s face screwed up in exasperation. Haddock had not been merely optimistic when he told Tintin he would be ready for another round. After just two minutes propped against a tree, the definite return of Tintin’s erection resulted in little patience for questions. “What does it matter?”

   Haddock’s beard parted in a wolfish grin. Tintin caught on a second later and his face flushed dangerously red.

   “You wouldn’t,” Tintin stated firmly. Then he reconsidered. “Would it even?”

   “Let’s find out.”

   “Hold on-“

   Haddock had Tintin’s chest repinned to the tree before the redhead could finish his stuttering protest. Tintin’s cap, which had held on so valiantly, went flying with the force of the turn. His trench coat was hitched up again and cheeks were pried apart to reveal that hidden pucker. Tintin jolted as the first capsule was pushed against the fleshy barrier. But the barrier wouldn’t give, the pressure of Haddock’s thumb caused the capsule to burst and coat the tight flesh in a slick liquid.

   “Haddock!”

   Tintin never called him by his just his last name.

   “Well, I know I’ve got it now,” Haddock muttered for assurance. The mess from the first capsule proved to be very helpful in easing the way for the second and Haddock’s thumb. The Captain was pleased with his improvised lube.

   Since a single digit inside him felt like heaven, Tintin was very willing to forgive the fumbling and the dubious consent. The second capsule either broke at the end of Haddock’s thumb or was absorbed because Tintin experienced a wave of heat that put all the earlier outbreaks to shame.

   “How’s that?” Haddock's voice rumbled through Tintin's chest.

   Tintin gasped against the tree inches from his face.

   “See what I meant?”

   Tintin’s mouth hung open as he nodded.

   Haddock’s thumb was replaced with two fingers. They crooked just so and fire shot up Tintin’s spine. Tintin came against the tree with a startled cry. His brain barely registered the kind chuckle behind him. A gentle hand rubbed the back of Tintin’s neck even as the fingers inside him picked up speed.

   Tintin sighed in lieu of speech and pushed back against the Captain’s fingers. He should have been cooling down, but the coil in his stomach just seemed to flex and burn hotter. A quick glance proved he, was in fact, still very hard. Tintin gritted his teeth when fingers were replaced with something even better. It was like the rest of the Captain; blunt, firm, and a little graceless in the way it barreled forward. And it was hotter than the Hell Catholic priests warned against.

   They didn’t need words as they built up to a brutal pace but their harsh breaths seemed to bounce around the frozen woods. Tintin let his forearms take the force of Haddock’s thrusts. When each snap of the Captain’s hips became sharper and ended in a hard grind, Tintin reached between his own legs to hurry along the next orgasm that clawed at his insides. This time Tintin was ready for it and only let out a slow groan as a negligible amount of semen slicked his fingers. Haddock growled as Tintin’s clenching muscles sent him over the edge as well. He crushed the younger man to his chest. Rough fingers wrapped around Tintin’s on the young man’s cock and gave one last jerk that sent Tintin collapsing against the tree with the force of a dry orgasm.

   Some hard-to-determine amount of time later, Tintin managed to push off just far enough that he and Haddock slid to the frozen ground in the most exhausted and sticky heap. Tintin turned, mouth dry and ass sore, to stare disbelievingly at Haddock.

   “Fuck,” Tintin muttered.

   The Captain exhaled grandly and scooped his long discarded hat from a pile of muddy snow. “Agreed. Did you keep count?”

   Tintin's smile was lopsided as he smoothed his quiff. "Five between us?"

   "I think that's a record."

   "Think so."

   "You want to go again?"

   "Captain, you can not be serious about that."

   Haddock shrugged and grinned.

   Tintin chewed his lip and seemed to consider it but eventually fixed Haddock with the most sincere stare he could manage while sitting in the middle of the frozen woods half naked. Even more important than propriety, there was a sense of limit to physical possibility! Despite being giddy with endorphins, even Hadock's laugh sounded a bit exhausted.

   "Come here," Tintin beckoned the Captain forward gently. The kiss that passed between them was less a passionate frenzy this time and more of a gentle 'thank you.' Tintin laughed very suddenly as he withdrew from the kiss and pulled down his sweater. “Captain, it is freezing out here!”

   Haddock slowly flourished the envelope of pills and wiggled his eyebrows. Tintin’s laughter stopped immediately.

***********

   It was several hours from the time Nestor had noticed Haddock and Tintin’s disappearance until the moment when he finally spotted the masters at the stairs of Marlinspike. The two were dirty, disheveled, and near frozen.

   “Gracious! What has happened? Where you ambushed? Shall I call the police?” Nestor fretted as he tried to help a wincing Haddock up the stairs.

   The Captain waved Nestor off with a bare hand. “Just two hot baths please. And where’s Calculus?”

   “Of course, Sir. And I believe Professor Calculus went out.”

   “Out?” Tintin queried holding his collar high against the cold.

   “As he was running out the door, he mentioned Miss. Castafiore was due in town. I believe he’s gone to visit her.”

   “Should we…” Tintin stared horrified at the Captain.

   “Should we what?” Haddock grumbled, his knees hurt and his fingers were numb.

   “…warn them?” Tintin grimaced at the thought of what he was warning them against.

   _Bianca and Calculus._

_And Calculus had been the first to try the pills._

   The Captain blinked, stared at Tintin in alarm, grimaced, shook his head, and finally turned to Nestor.

   “Nestor,” Haddock fished the nearly empty packet of pills from his pocket, “burn these please. And make my bath extra hot, I’ve got to scrub my brain out.”

   Tintin waited until Haddock had started the climb upstairs before turning to Nestor. "Actually, Nestor, I think I'll hold onto that envelope."

 

  

**Author's Note:**

> How many orgasms is too many? Oh! Don't mind me, just thinking out loud. The idea of Calculus' inventions going awry never gets old to me. XD  
> This is inspired by one of BiancaCastafarina's stories (which may be the first Tintin/Haddock smut I ever read!), and dedicated to Double Decks and MissMartine (who I had the insane pleasure of bumping into at a convention!)  
> 


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